Checking It Twice
by Mike-045
Summary: It's a very Dresden Christmas... in Amsterdam!  As per usual for Harry, there's a mystery afoot, and he's been brought in to solve it.  Powers unknown to the White Council abound, and a figure older than Time itself waits in the shadows.  Some spoilers.
1. Chapter One

It was that time of the year again – the time when snow fell in flurries through the leafless trees, when the sky was perpetually overcast, and when little children vanished in Amsterdam. It was a buffet for all kinds of holidays with something for everyone: Christmas, obviously, as well as Chanukah and Kwanzaa, or even the Winter Solstice. The man I was going to meet, the Warden from Berlin, suspected that the supernatural activity was due to Yule and the old pagan traditions associated with it. However, I was going to reserve my own judgment until I could see some evidence for myself.

That's the key to being a good investigator. You've got to keep an open mind and remember that the impossible may just be… improbable. When you're working the beings that I do, you've really got no choice but to.

I tramped through the strange, pine-scented snow of the Nevernever and ignored the haunting sounds that tried to lure me off of the beaten path. This was the land of Faerie, the part I was traveling through belonging to Mab and the realm of Winter. Faerie, and the creatures that inhabited it, were split most evenly between two opposing forces of nature: Winter and Summer.

As for me, despite popular opinion and the will of the Winter Queen Herself, I belonged to neither. I was and am Harry Dresden, Warden of the White Council of Wizards.

That's not nearly as glamorous as it sounds, believe you me. Most of the time that I'd spent in that duty had been wasted walking in this snow and tossing new Warden-trainees through a school of hard knocks and into a world of hurt.

Fun times.

But back to the story. My colleague suspected some rogue Winter Fae, maybe Hobs or something, to be the kidnappers. As the perceived expert on Winter Fae, and the only other Warden available on Christmas Eve, I'd been called in to help him look into the strangeness. I reached the place he'd told me to cross over from and, gathering my will together, I whispered, "Impartum." I then stepped out of the Nevernever and into an Amsterdam coffeehouse filled with patrons obscured by a thick cloud of smog of dubious composition. Not one of them so much as glanced as a tall, dark-haired man wearing a black leather duster and carrying a quarterstaff stepped out of a doorway leading nowhere. The ectoplasm that built up the Nevernever baked off faster than I was used to, given the abrupt temperate change.

The female half of the nearest couple smiled thinly at me from her blonde-framed face and then resumed her conversation, pausing to a drag off of… something. I blinked, shrugged indifferently to stay in character and walked out of the strong-smelling restaurant and into the street.

It was getting a little dark out, but I'd made great time considering that I'd left Chicago about four hours earlier. I love the Nevernever's time-to-reality exchange rates when they're in my favor.

For the first time in my life I was maybe one of the least conspicuous people out on the street. The Dutch that surrounded me were all of equal or greater height, and many wore old leather coats not unlike my own. Some of them even carried canes. I saw more than one fedora, and felt… at home.

My fellow Warden was sitting in a bench across the street and was quite more conspicuous than myself. He was wearing the full uniform, complete with grey cloak and broadsword, the latter which he was resting his hands on in front of him. I guess that the pedestrians were assuming him to be a medieval reenactor waiting for a bus or something. Despite being only officially assigned to Berlin, he had assumed command of the entirety of Central Europe and was by all accounts doing a heck of a job. That our ranks had been greatly thinned by the Vampire War and had left him no choice, that was beside the point. His name was Wolfram Hermann.

"Guten tag," he greeted me, "Harry Dresden. How was your trip?"

Truth be told, it had been kind of crappy. I'd just dropped the grasshopper off with her family and was considering calling Thomas when the Wardens had gotten to me first. So I lied, "It was refreshing. Not that I mind standing around in the cold, but what exactly is the situation here?"

Wolfram stared at me for a moment with his dark eyes that were frighteningly similar to Morgan's and replied, "You do not know?"

I shook my head with the negative. Or the affirmative. Whatever. I meant it to mean no, alright?

He sighed and said, "Well then. Six children, all of magic-sensitive familes, have vanished over the past two nights. I have strong reason to believe that more will be gone this night, but I do not know where they have gone or where they are going. I was of the inclination that your own talents could provide aid in that venture."

Ah. So he was lost, and knew it. But like many century-senior wizards he was too proud to openly admit it like that. Ah, well. There were lives – Hells' Bells, children – at sake. It wouldn't be easy, as I didn't have many options and even fewer resources over here. So I was going to have to make my own.

When dealing with the Fair Folk, it's a good idea to not involve yourself too directly. Ugly as it is, you should let others do the dirty work of greeting, dealing, and general communicating with them for you. To that end, I'd brought along a friend home known far and wide as… Toot-Toot.  
Toot was a Dewdrop Fairy, or had been, anyway. If he still was then he was easily the largest Dewdrop Fairy that I had ever seen. He was about fifteen inches tall and wore a makeshift panoply of various recyclables – and was currently living in the duffel bag hanging from my shoulder.

"I think that I've got just the thing for this situation. But one thing..." I chewed the inside of my cheek, thoughtful. "In your message you said that you suspected Winter Fae, but didn't want to say for sure. Why is that?" I lifted a finger, still thinking. "No, don't answer yet. I want my secret weapon to be able to talk, too."

I sat down on the bench next to Wolfram and unzipped the bag, to reveal Toot running a tiny whetstone down the length of a letter-opener wrapped in twine. He blinked at the sudden sunlight and peered at me from underneath his vibrant, magenta hair and said, "The bag wasn't really necessary, Harry. I could have gotten here by myself. Not that I don't appreciate the lift – it's really quite roomy in here."  
I smiled at him, and then motioned to Wolfram and Toot in turn. "Toot, Wolfram. Wolfram, Toot."

The little fairy slung his letter-opener over his back, secured through a loop of shoelace. He glanced up and over at Wolfram for a moment, then brightly piqued, "Guten tag!"

Surprised, Wolfram repeated to him in German and they went back and forth for a few minutes. Wolfram turned to me and said, "This is the one that killed the Summer Lady? Aurora, was her name?"

"Yes!" Toot chimed in, "with the iron that Harry gave us. He helped, of course. It's a sorry thing that she had to die – but it was necessary, I think."

"With… that brieföffner?"

"No, boxcutters." Toot's innocence was unnerving, especially as he crossed his arms and puffed out his chest to the impressive volume of a Coke can popping open. Wolfram whistled through his teeth and reclined in his seat.

I realized how cold it was getting and decided to push things a long a little. "Toot," I said,"we need your help. Not just you, but many of the Little Folk, maybe. Do you have any contacts here?" Then I felt silly, and continued with dread, "You do know where we are, right?"

"Of course I do, Harry. De Nederlands. Amsterdam, to be more precise." He then looked shocked and said, "Oh, yeah. I do have some friends here. Well," He was growing hesitant. "they're my friends, but I don't know if I am their friend, you know?"

"Why don't you lead us to them," Wolfram rumbled, "and we will find out?"

"That's a good idea. I think that having two Wardens of the White Council along will convince your friends to help us out, Toot. Wolfram," I diverted my eyes to his. Well. A little above his, anyway. We didn't need to instigate a soulgaze. "You said that you didn't want to hold faith in our culprits being Fae. Why is that?"

"Because, Warden Dresden, all of the kidnappings went around thresholds."

I grit my teeth. That was a definite pickle. I didn't know of anything even remotely mundane off of the top of my head that had the cajones to bypass a threshold. Something that /could/ do that... was a little out of our league.

And given the time of year, place, and all other factors, there could only be one solution to this problem: a certain Saint Nicholas.


	2. Chapter Two

Crap. Crap crap crap crap.

That was the singular, dominating thought that occupied my mind as Wolfram and I pursued Toot's glowing form towards where we thought that the next kidnapping was going to occur: a small family of minor talents living in a district of old, red-brick houses. It was snowing, and for once I was glad of it. The constant snowfall would keep any tails we may have picked up away from us.

Speaking of which, Toot's contacts had turned out to be a clan of bridge-trolls, Wyldfae, incidentally. They hadn't been too eager to offer him up any information, but we'd managed to convince them otherwise. So we'd left the Canals of the city and were now racing against time to beat a god-level being at doing its job.

I mean, wow. It's not like every day you get the opportunity to challenge Santa Claus – Sinter Klass, as he was known over here – at his own game. For some reason, children were disappearing, and he was the sole being that I knew of that had the power to completely bypass a threshold like that.

And he did it by going through the chimney.

I spoke in bursts, trying to pace myself as we ran. "Wolfram," I rasped, my throat raw from the bitter winter air, "What do you know that may help us?" I couldn't waste any breath on snark, not this time.

"Not much," he answered. He was obviously in better shape to running in this climate than I was. Duly noted. "Other than that Amsterdam is seen as his second seat of power, or the Saint Nicholas', anyway. Take that in mind. He'll be more formidable here than, say, back in Berlin, where I am more comfortable. Or you would be in your… town of origin."

"Chicago."

"Right. But that is all that I can recall off of the top of my head. Surely, the family is asleep and unsuspecting. We will not have time to ask them for permission – we will have to enter through force."

I winced, both against the cold and that notion. "Won't that seriously depower us, though?"

"Yes. But I still have hope that we can negotiate, maybe, and get to the bottom of this without undue conflict."

"Negotiating with a possibly-rogue King of Winter. Nice."

"He is a King of Winter? How do you know this?"

I eyed Toot's floating form, still leading the way not far ahead of us. "A little Faerie told me."

Wolfram sniffed, but didn't say anything other than, "Das ist interessant." Great.

He pointed a hand up ahead. "There's the house. Quickly now, we may not be late. Call back the Faerie – and then remove the door. I doubt that they have any substantial wards around, certainly nothing that can threaten us."

"Toot," I shouted, against the wind, "get back here!" He'd blipped back to hover at my eye level, off to the side, as soon as I'd said his name, but I'd finished the statement anyway to save face if nothing else. Not that Wolfram was paying any attention, what with his hackles raised 'n all.

"But just in case," he continued, "assault it with me. Two is better than one, ja?

"Apologize later. Palic!" His force spell was harsh, both against the mental senses and my ears. I added a quick, "Forzare!", and together we drove through their little ward and blew the door in.

I felt bad, really. But I hadn't gotten to lay down the law (or muscle) on anything in a long time, so it was kind of nice, in a twisted way that reminded you that you were going to have to fix it later. But one problem at a time.

We leaped through the door, Wolfram with his freaking broadsword in hand and Toot brandishing his letter opener. I had my hand on my revolver, but kept it in my pocket – just in case any innocents were around.

I felt the home's threshold slap against my wizard's senses; it was something that I'd never gotten used to, which was a good sign I guess. That meant that I wasn't used to breaking and entering. Often, anyway. Now where's my karma? Or at least some brownie points?

There was a lanky, dark shape crouched in front of the fire-place, beside the small Christmas tree with a few gaudily-wrapped presents underneath it. I couldn't get a good look at it, but knew something was up when it slapped Wolfram across his sternum, flipping him over my head with a surprised curse.

Toot traced a line across the thing's forearm, which ended in claws, to which it screamed rather disproportionally to the wound it had received. Ah. So it was a Fae, then, but to which Court? Maybe we'd luck out and it wouldn't be related to old Saint Nick himself after all.

Then it launched itself at me, and I realized that it looked like a very pretty, very strangely-dressed black man. His face had a sort of youthful, timeless quality I've found in all Sidhe, complete with the cat-slit eyes. Creepy, right?

I threw myself to the ground, underneath the flying figure in Renaissance garb, and grabbed for a fireplace poker. I didn't know how bulletproof it was, and without my magic I didn't want to take any chances. It was an unusual poker, too; apparently designed for two hands, it was about five feet long and was very ornate, ending in two broad tips that made a right angle. Handy.

I was advancing on the Fae, poker held in my freezing hands like a spear, when it waved its hands at me and spat, "Nee! Nee!"

Dumbstruck, stabbed forward on impulse. Stars and stones. Just twenty-seven million years of instinct that really amounted to, "Hulk Smash!" Nothing major, of course.

The Fae screamed, louder than last time, and I absurdly feared that it would wake the neighbors. Thoroughly distracted, I was bowled over by it, and fell on my ass as it made a beeline for the chimney and went out of sight.

I sat up after a minute or two, clutching my poker like a security blanket. Wolfram made his second entrance not too soon after, his sword back in its sheath and his face ashen and pale.

"Do you know who that was, Harry?"

I winced a little, and replied, "Not Jazz. You got thrown out of the house, not him." The German didn't get it. Gah. Humor is wasted on the young, I guess – parents (and two-century old Wardens) just don't understand.

He sighed, and said, "That was Black Peter. Sinter Klass' assistant. By attacking him with iron, Warden Dresden, you've now made war on him."

Hell's Bells. I'd declared war on Santa Claus.

"As if that's not bad enough," he intoned, "what do you know of the Wild Hunt? If I recall correctly, you encountered de Erklonig some time ago, yes?"

I nodded the affirmative, still a little shocked that a childhood icon was now out for my blood.

"Yes. Well. He summoned the Wild Hunt then, but I am sure that you know that he is not the only one that can call forth the Hunt when needed. There are others… and you have just disturbed another of them. He will come for you, Warden Dresden. And he will end you and many others if you do not act, maybe."

I just can't get a break, huh?


End file.
